


his name is made of stars

by NoPitSoDeep



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: But also, F/M, Hurt No Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Marauders era, angsty angsty angst sorry, but like in a sad way because im an asshole, first wizarding war, wolfstar forever
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-11
Updated: 2014-09-11
Packaged: 2018-02-16 23:06:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2287832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoPitSoDeep/pseuds/NoPitSoDeep
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sirius Black sits against the Whomping Willow with his tie hanging loosely about his neck, and his shirt unbuttoned, looking every big aloof and unconcerned with the world.</p><p> </p><p>Remus Lupin watches him and wishes he could stay that way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	his name is made of stars

**Author's Note:**

> title taken from this poem by B.I. Simek
> 
> http://connotationofstars.tumblr.com/post/97175903129/his-name-is-made-of-stars-and-though-the

Sirius Black sits against the Whomping Willow with his tie hanging loosely about his neck, and his shirt unbuttoned, looking every big aloof and unconcerned with the world.

 

Remus Lupin watches him and wishes he could stay that way.

  
  


\--

 

“You’d be a great Auror, Moony.” It’s mumbled into his thigh where Sirius is half-asleep, lounging across the couch, and Remus rolls his eyes.

 

“We both know I can’t, Pads.” He grumbles, and props his book up at a better angle on Sirius’s back. James’s head shifts where he’s leaning against the sofa, and he looks up at Remus, blue eyes bright and sure, and his smirk makes Remus’s chest clench.

 

“Ah, come on, Remus, we’ll find a way.” Remus raises a skeptical eyebrow, more to placate James’s need for exposition than anything else. “We’ll sneak you in under a fake name, or--or maybe we could get a legislation passed, make them take you.”

 

“You going to become a Werewolf rights activist when you grow up, Prongs?”  
  
“I might!” Peter pipes up, and Remus can’t help but grin at him. He’s lying on the floor, mousy hair poking out from under the cap James’s mum sent him for Christmas last year, and he’s smiling at Remus like it’s the simplest thing in the world. “You don’t know, Moony, I c-could be taking all c-creature rights classes next sem.”

 

“See, Rem? Peter’d make an excellent Werewolf rights activist.” James jabs Peter in the ribs. “We just have to work on that st-t-st-t-tutter.” Peter giggles, and kicks James in the shin, and they tumble across the floor, intermittently insulting and attacking each other as they go.

 

Sirius presses his face into Remus’s stomach, and a lock of his hair falls down over his cheek. He mumbles something Remus can’t quite make out, that sounds vaguely like ‘deserve better’, and Remus strokes it away, and kisses his temple, and wishes there were a way to hold Sirius so close he’ll never disappear.

 

\--

 

Remus Lupin knows they will not be young forever.

 

He knows that one day, the soft chub around Peter’s cheeks will hollow away and be replaced with something less filled with boyish innocence.

 

He knows that James will not always wake up with a fire in his eyes, jump in his step, ready to take on anything the world could throw at him and turn it into a war cry.

 

He knows that Lily cannot stay fierce like a lion forever, and that eventually, time will take its toll on her heart as it does on everyones.

 

He knows that Sirius’s smile will fade, as will the color in his cheeks, and that there will come a time when the weight of Remus’s arms around him will not be enough to keep him grounded.

 

He knows this because, unlike the rest of them, he reads the papers. He listens to the radio. He hears the whispers about the evil seeping through the cracks in Diagon Alley, and wizards going missing from their homes. He sees photos of skulls and snakes and feels the darkness coming, feels it in his stomach and his chest and the coldness in his fingers.

 

Remus can feel the war coming the way that wolves can feel it in their spines when their young howl for them, and Remus knows they should be scared.

 

They will not be young forever, and what little time they have is running out.

 

\--

 

The Yule Ball brings with it anxiety, and excitement, and the dawning realization that not a single one of them has anything acceptable to wear, let alone a date.

 

Remus’s dress robes are ugly and lacey and probably belonged to his Aunt Gemima, James has grown out of his old ones, again, such that his sleeves come up to his forearms and the cuffs of his pants waver over his calfs. Peter has, too, but in a different direction, and Sirius burned the last set of robes he had because his mother sent them to him and he hates her, but at least they’re all going to look like rubbish together.

 

Frank swoops in and saves them at the last minute, because his parents are bloody well-off, and he’s a kind, kind soul, and each of them ends up with a set of tailored robes that put Lucius Malfoy to shame. Well, not really, but they look better than he does, anyway, or so James says.

 

“It’s because he’s a git.” James insists, and Sirius nods, well, seriously. “If he weren’t a git, he wouldn’t look like a lizard in a suit, but he is, so he does.”

 

“Y-you’re a git, too, Prongs.” Peter mumbles while he futzes with his cubberbund, and James shrugs.

 

“Yeah, but I look good.”

 

No one can argue with that.

 

The morning before the ball, Peter plucks up his courage, and walks up to Marlene Mckinnon with a set expression and a piece of paper clutched firmly in his small fingers.

 

He hands it to her and all but soars back to their table, hides his face in his arms while James pats his back, until it flies back over, floating as lightly as you please, and lands in front of him, with a large ‘ _YES_ ’ written in flowing black ink across it.

 

Peter doesn’t stop grinning for the rest of the day.

 

James doesn’t say anything about a date, but he keeps shooting Lily looks down the table at lunch, and unlike usual, she’s actually looking back, little smiles that are about as rare as Devil’s Snare.

 

“You find a date yet, Padfoot?” James asks through a mouthful of potatoes, and Sirius grins.

 

“Moony’s gonna be my date, right, Rem?”  He says smoothly, and slides an arm around Remus’s shoulders. Remus rolls his eyes, and steadfastly ignores the backflips his stomach does. James scoffs.

 

“Like you’d ever be good enough for Moony.” Sirius laughs, and kicks James under the table, before turning toward Remus.

 

“What do you say, Lupin? You wanna be my deeply homosexual date to the Yule Ball?” Remus raises an eyebrow.

 

“I don’t know, Sirius, you’re not exactly flattering me.” He doesn’t know why he doesn’t expect that Sirius will slip off the bench and sink down onto one knee in the middle of the dining hall, but of course, that’s what he does.

 

“Remus John Lupin,” He professes clutching his chest with one hand and holding the other out toward Remus. “Will you do this humble, disowned son of Black the great and magnanimous honor of accompanying him to the Yule Ball, tomorrow evening?” Remus slaps him upside the head, and rolls his eyes again, but says yes, mostly to get Sirius up off the floor.

 

Or, at least, thats what he tells himself.

 

\--

 

James needs an exorbitant amount of help getting his hair to lie something resembling flat, an Peter can’t get his suspenders on himself, so it takes Remus a little longer than it normally would to get dressed.

 

Franks done well by them, and Remus’s suit fits to a T, actually manages to make him look acceptable, instead of emaciated, and feels something resembling comfortable where it sits on him. He brushes his hair, absently, trying not to think about the fact that he has no idea whether or not this is actually a date.

 

It becomes clear when Sirius steps inside, hair tied back in a ponytail and bowtie done up perfectly. The dress robes stretch in immaculate lines over his shoulders and chest, and the cuffs come down exactly as far as they should over his hands, long fingers playing nervously with the black carnation he’s holding.

 

“Pads, you look--” Remus cuts himself off, and shakes his head. “Incredible.”

 

Sirius grins, and ducks his head, and Remus loves him.

 

“Yeah, well.” He shrugs, and takes another step forward, and Remus’s heart stutters in his chest. “I’ve got a bit of a standard to live up to, since my date’s so bloody brilliant looking.”

 

Remus shakes his head, and reaches out, even though he doesn’t need to, and smooths down Sirius’s lapels, and Sirius holds the flower up between them. It’s delicate, and beautiful, and Remus takes it with a little bit of wonder in him.

 

“Figured a rose might be a bit cliche.” Sirius mumbles, while Remus sniffs it and is pleasantly surprised when it smells like an actual plant as opposed to any of the thousand other things it could smell like. He looks up, slowly, and Sirius’s face is drawn, a little concerned, with a dash of something else, something that Remus can’t quite define. He tilts his head to the side, and swallows.

 

“This is a date.” He says softly, and watches Sirius’s breath hitch, slightly.

 

“Would--would you like it to be a date?” He asks, his voice quavering in the most Peter-like way Remus has ever heard it, and Remus smiles.

 

“Yes, very much so.”

 

“Then--then yeah, I s'pose it is.” Remus nods, and holds out his arm, which Sirius takes almost automatically.

 

“Then walk me to the dance, date.” Sirius’s face splits back into that grin, and Remus figures he’s done well.

 

\--

 

The ball in, in a word, extravagant. Snow falls from the ceiling, and melts before it hits their heads, ice sculptures of lions and snakes, hedgehogs and ravens litter the room, and grand christmas trees, twenty feet tall, at least, towering over them in the least intimidating way possible since they’re, you know, christmas trees. There’s a soft music playing, and the orchestra is set up in a corner, waiting for their time to come.

 

Sirius’s arm is stiff in Remus’s, but when Remus looks at him, he visibly relaxes.

 

“We don’t have to go, you know.” Remus murmurs, and Sirius shakes his head.

 

“I want to.” Remus looks skeptical, but he nods fervently. “No, I do, Moony, I really do. I just…” He trails off, and Remus understands. Remus understands perfectly the desire to do things like this even though you don’t fit in, and they absolutely do not fit in, with Remus’s scars, and Sirius’s tattoos, still evident, even from under his sleeves. They do not belong at fancy parties, and balls. They’re rough around the edges, and some parts in the middle, too.

 

But this is Hogwarts, and if there’s anywhere that two people as out of place as them can fit in, its here.

 

They step inside, and immediately, he catches sight of James and Lily, mostly because Lily looks exquisite. Her dress is cinched at her waist, and then falls loosely to the floor, a deep red that matches her hair, mixed in with a gold trim. The neckline is revealing, but not overly so, and her cheeks are rosy, dimples constantly apparent because she can’t seem to stop smiling, and James is no better.

 

They look happy. Remus is glad.

 

Peter and Marlene are standing a foot or so apart, looking small and awkward, but they’re both blushing, apparently in the good way, and honestly, thats the best one can expect from Peter on a date.

 

Sirius sticks close to him, even while people are shouting his name and waving to him, and Remus is abruptly reminded that Sirius does actually have friends outside James, Peter, and himself. Sirius’s personality just attracts people, it’s unavoidable. Sometimes Remus just likes to forget.

 

McGonagall raises her arm above her head, and everyone starts to spread out, linking hands with their dance partners. Alice and Frank are across the hall, already poised to dance, and Remus realizes in a moment of horror that he has absolutely no clue how.

 

But then Sirius wraps an arm around his waist and takes his hand and leans in close.

 

“Follow my lead, yeah?” He whispers, and Remus rests his hand on his chest. “Dancing classes are a Black family tradition. Or something.”

 

Remus can’t help but laugh, and then they’re moving, and he should be nervous, but he’s not. Sirius leads him around the room in an even circle, spins him exactly when he should be spun, and the more they move the more okay with it Remus gets.

 

Sirius’s hand is so comfortable, on his waist, and their fingers link together like its the most natural thing in the world because it is.

 

Remus looks over and James is fumbling around, stumbling over his own feet, and Lily is giggling, and Peter and Marlene are grinning at each other, and Alice and Frank are falling over each other over, and over, but they’ve never looked happier, and god, Remus wishes it could just stay like this forever.

 

\--

 

They stumble back to Gryffindor tower, laughing and a little drunk on butterbeer, Sirius leaning heavily on Remus as they make their way through the portrait hole. They collapse onto one of the sofas in the empty common room, a tangle of limbs and ties, and Remus lands on top of Sirius, with his face pressed into the crook of his neck. Both their top buttons are undone, and Sirius’s jacket is probably still around Lily’s shoulders, somewhere. He’s rolled his sleeves up, and his fingers are tentative when they slide up into Remus’s hair, tilting his head back.

 

Remus looks down, and Sirius’s eyes are wide, and sure, his smile enchanting in the most intoxicating of ways, and his thumbs graze over Remus’s cheeks. Remus rests his elbows on either side of Sirius’s head, and he’s suddenly aware of how close they are, their chests pressed together and their noses almost bumping, warm, sweet breath mixing between them.

 

It feels like he’s on the edge of a waterfall that splashes into a deep pool, knees bent to dive off, but not ready yet, with Sirius’s mouth so close to his, and Sirius’s fingers in his hair.

 

“Moony…” Sirius breathes, and Remus leaps.

 

Sirius’s mouth is warm, and soft, and his sharp inhale of breath makes it feel that much sweeter. His hands are buried in Remus’s hair, and his knee is slotted between Remus’s thighs, and it feels like flying and coming home all at once.

 

He pulls back, and Sirius’s cheeks are red, his lips wet and swollen, and he’s beautiful.

 

“Remus, I--” His voice chokes off, roughly, and Remus sees it. What he so rarely sees.

 

There’s fear, in Sirius’s eyes, and not just the kind that comes from being sixteen and kissing a boy for the (probably not) first time. No, this is real, palpable fear. This is the fear of losing something, of losing everything, and it reminds Remus that maybe he’s not the only one who reads the newspaper. Maybe he’s not the only one who’s scared.

 

“I know.” He murmurs, and shakes his head, nudging their noses together. “I know, Padfoot. Me, too.” Sirius’s fingers wind tighter in his hair, and he tugs him down again, kisses him, more fiercely, this time, as though he can pour all of his love into Remus through his lips and the hot breaths he lets out against his cheek.

 

Remus kisses back and hopes for the same thing.

 

\--

 

“Iron...belly?”

 

“No.”

 

“Oh, right, tits, it’s the Vipertooth, isn’t it?” Remus nods, and James sighs, and rubs both hands over his face. “This is ridiculous. They’re all named after their attributes. Why is this so hard?”

 

“I dunno, mate.” Sirius says from the floor, and makes another mark in his notebook. “Seems pretty simple to me. Almost like only a bloody idiot wouldn’t know it.” James throws a book at his head, and misses, and Sirius cackles softly. Remus rolls his eyes.

 

“Hows your studying going, then?” James spits, and Sirius turns to look at him, eyebrows raised.

 

“I haven’t got a Care of Magical Creatures N.E.W.T. tomorrow that I’ve no idea about, Potter, so I’d say I’m alright.” James groans, and collapses back into his armchair, staring despondently into the fire.

 

“Do you reckon Grubblyplank’ll fail me on principle if I ask for an extension?”

 

“Probably.” Peter says absently, nose-deep in his own copy of Fantastic Beasts, stroking it with one finger. James sighs.

 

“It’s not like it’ll even matter, in a year!” Remus looks up, mouth open to ask, but James keeps talking. “What with all this evil wizards business, it’s not like any of it’s going to count.”

 

“James, come on, don’t talk like that.”

 

“It’s true, Remus, I’ll probably be _dead_ before I can--”

 

“Don’t.”

 

A hush falls over them, and when Remus looks over, Sirius’s shoulders are tense, his knuckles white where he’s gripping his quill. James glares at him.

 

“It’s just a joke, Padfoot.”

 

“Yeah?” Sirius snaps his book shut, and sits up, shoving it into his bag. “Well it’s not fucking funny.” He spits, and with that, he’s up, and walking away, without a backward glance.

 

There’s a moment of silence that seems to stretch on for miles, and then James thunks his head back against the arm of the chair.

 

“Fuck.” He breathes, and shakes his head, pushing up out of his seat. “I’m such a fucking-- _fuck_.” He drops his book on the floor and follows Sirius up to the dormitory, and Remus has to fight with a passion his temptation to follow.

 

Peter looks up, and stares at the door James just went through, and Remus does the same.

 

There’s a little muffled talking, and of Sirius’s books hitting the floor, and then;

 

“You can’t joke about that shit, James!”

 

“Sirius--”

 

“You can’t joke about fucking leaving us, alright? You just can’t!”

 

“I said I’m sorry!”

 

More mumbling, and then the door flies open, and Sirius storms out, with James hot on his heels.

 

“Padfoot. Padfoot, come on, talk to me.” James reaches out, and catches Sirius’s sleeve, and Sirius rounds on him, face red, eyes wide and desperate.

 

“You don’t get it.” He rasps, and rips his arm out of James’s grasp. “You don’t get it, Jamie, it’s not--it’s not a joke.” Sirius shakes his head, and rubs both hands over his face. “The world is in danger, _we_ could be in danger, and you--” He grits his teeth. “You’re important, James, you’re my fucking--brother, and I'm already losing Reg, and I can’t--I can’t--” He takes a shaky, harsh breath, and Remus acts on instinct, rolls off the couch and steps around to pull Sirius into his arms and Sirius all but collapses, presses his face into the crook of Remus’s neck and wraps his arms around his waist.

 

They stand there for a minute, with Remus stroking his fingers over the back of Sirius’s neck, and Sirius holding him so tight he thinks he’s forgotten how to let go.

 

“I’m sorry.” James breathes, and shakes his head, taking the smallest of steps forward. “Hey, I’m sorry, Siri, I didn’t--” He breaks off, and reaches out, fingers of one hand curling around Sirius’s elbow. “Come here.” Sirius takes a shuddering gasp for air, and James steps closer, tugging gently on his arm. “Padfoot, come here.”

 

Sirius lets go of Remus just long enough to fall onto James, and then they’re hugging, grasping each other as tightly as they can. James buries the fingers of one hand in the mop of Sirius’s hair, holding him close.

 

“I’m here.” He mumbles, and Remus’s chest clenches. “I’m here, Sirius, I’m not going anywhere.”

 

Remus takes a step back, and then another, and sits down next to Peter on the floor, pressed close so their arms are touching.

 

Peter shifts so his knee bumps Remus’s and Remus prays that he’s wrong about this war.

 

\--

  
  


Remus wakes up on Christmas morning to the sound of Sirius whooping loudly and prancing around the room, and James shushing him not much more quietly.

 

There’s a thump, and then a soft ‘fuck’ and then Sirius is crawling into bed with him, cold fingers and cold toes pressing into Remus’s very comfortably warm skin.

 

“Moony.” He coos. “Moooooony. Presents.”

 

Remus groans, and Sirius bites at his jawline, sneaking his fingers up under his shirt.

 

“Presents, Remus. Piles of them. And breakfast. Piles of it.”

 

Remus kisses Sirius, long, and slow, and a little vindictively because he knows his mouth tastes terrible from sleeping, until James throws something blunt at them.

 

“No snogging while I’m here! Moony, get up, you’ve got gifts from my mum.”

 

Sirius grins, and pecks Remus’s lips again, before throwing back the covers. Remus hisses as the cold air hits him, and rolls off the bed in a tangled mess of sheets and pyjamas.

 

He picks himself up off the floor, and half-crawls to the foot of his bed, pulling the pile of wrapped gifts into his lap. Peter’s curled up on James’s bed in one of Mrs. Potter’s giant knit sweaters, eating cauldron cakes, and James is turning a wrapped present over and over in his hands, staring at it.

 

“Just open it, mate.” Sirius says, lounging lazily across Remus’s bed.

 

“But what if she jinxed it.”

 

“James, she didn’t jinx it.” Peter mumbles around a mouthful of cake, and James’ mouth twists into a grimace.

 

“We don’t know that. She’s clever. She could have given me a hat that never comes off or--or a box that’s got a bat bogey hex in it.” Remus blinks.

 

“Lily?” He asks, and Peter nods sagely. Remus rolls his eyes. “She didn’t jinx it, Prongs, open the damn gift.”

 

James sets his shoulders, and tears away the red tissue paper to reveal a small cardboard box.

 

“The suspense is killing me.” Sirius says flatly, and James glowers at him as he opens it.

 

He upturns the box onto his lap, and out falls a rememberall.

 

“Told you it wasn’t cursed.” Peter says smugly, as James picks it up, peering at it in a mixture of confusion and wonder.

 

“Why?” He asks, and Sirius shrugs.

 

“Have you forgotten something?”

 

The ball answers for him, by clouding over and turning a deep, blood red, and James yelps, and promptly drops it on the floor.  Sirius giggles, and Remus groans and picks up a brightly wrapped package from his mother.

 

“What did I forget?” James mutters to himself, and looks up at the ceiling, one eyebrow raised quizzically. “What...what did I forget?” Sirius’s head shoots up, his eyes wide and terrified, and his mouth falls open at the same time James’s does.

 

“You didn’t--”

 

“I forgot--”

 

“James--”

 

“I can’t believe--”

 

“You _didn’t_ \--”

 

“Shit.”

 

Remus darts his gaze between them quizzically for a minute and then freezes.

 

“James. James, no.” James is staring at the rememberall with a mixture of horror and disbelief. Sirius nods.

 

“James yes.”

 

“James _no_.”

 

Peter blinks, and shakes his head.

 

“What?” He looks at Remus. “What did I miss?”

 

Remus opens his mouth to answer, but Sirius cuts him off.

 

“Prongs, my dear Peter, is a dead man.” He says, his voice almost hollow. Peter continues to look confused.

 

“What--”

 

“I didn’t get Lily anything.” James says, still staring wide-eyed at the rememberall. “I didn’t--I forgot--” Peter balks, and his hands shoot to his mouth.

 

“You _what_?” James nods, and his mouth opens and closes absently for a moment before his eyes flick up to meet Remus’s.

 

“What am I going to do?” He asks, and clasps both hands over his face. “Oh, Merlin, Moony, what am I going to do?” Remus bites the inside of his cheek, and Sirius’s head shoots up.

 

“I’ve got it!” He exclaims, and scrambles off of Remus’s bed, stumbling to his trunk and beginning to rummage through it. There’s the crick of broken glass and the sound of metal hititng metal and then Sirius pops up, holding something triumphantly aloft.

 

It’s a photo of James and Lily, sitting next to each other at breakfast what must have been months ago, a little awkward, but still grinning. Sirius must’ve stolen it from Frank at some point since he developed his film. James keeps darting his eyes up to look at Lily, and Lily keeps meeting them and then ducking her head. It’s adorable, in a way.

 

“You’re lucky you’ve got me, Jamie Potter.”

 

James nods frantically, and makes grabby hands for it.

 

“Remus. Remus, make a picture frame.” Remus blinks, and shakes his head.

 

“What?”

 

“Make a picture frame! I’ve got to frame it!”

 

“Oh, right, yeah.”

  
  


In the end, Lily squeals when James hands her the finely framed photograph, but makes eye contact with Remus, and winks at him over James’s shoulder when she hugs him. At dinner, she’s sandwiched between Marlene and James, and she leans over the table.

 

“Nice job.”

 

“I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.”

 

Lily raises her eyebrows, and Remus grins.

 

“It’s Padfoot’s photo. I just made the frame.” He admits, and she nods.

 

“Knew it.”

  
  


\--

 

“Go. Sirius, _go_.”

 

“No.”

 

“Sirius, _please_ \--”

 

Remus can feel it coming, can feel the way his skin starts to shift, the rapid-fire beat of his heart. They took too long. He knows they did. They’re not even all the way through the passage from the willow to the shack and already he’s started to change, and he’s already too weak to stand. James and Peter have detention, and they could barely even get into the willow, and now, now theres no one to stop him.

 

No great stag to keep the wolf at bay.

 

Sirius kisses him, hard, and fast, and strokes his fingers through his hair.

 

“I’m not leaving you.” Remus cringes as he feels his back start to curve, cries out as his teeth begin to elongate, and Sirius kisses his forehead, and steps back, shifting seamlessly into Padfoot without another word.

 

The last thing Remus sees are black eyes and soft, clean fur before he shifts and everything’s gone.

 

\--

 

Remus wakes up and Sirius is asleep next to him, human again, and there are scratch marks like stripes on his back, his sides, his chest. Remus inches closer to him in spite of the pain in his joints and his head, and reaches out, lays a hand on his cheek, half to feel him, and half to make sure, really, truly sure, that he’s only sleeping.

 

Sirius’s eyes flutter open, and meet Remus’s, and Remus’s chest clenches, and he doesn’t know when he started crying, but he knows that he is, harsh, wracked sobs that shake his frame and hurt, and Sirius pulls him close, kisses his cheeks and his nose and his forehead and holds him, because sometimes that’s the best that can be done.

  
  


\--

 

The day they graduate, Remus thinks maybe everything will be okay.

 

Dumbledore gives a speech, the details of which he kind of loses track of, because Sirius is squeezing his hand so hard it almost hurts. Remus understands.

 

They made it. Sirius made it. In spite of getting kicked out of his own house and disowned, he’s managed to finish his education.

 

They stand up and throw their stupid pointed hats, and the future feels almost as bright as the sun does.

  
  


\--

 

Remus comes home from work and Sirius is stretched out over the couch, cigarette in one hand and book in the other, his glasses balanced, just barely, on the edge of his nose. His shirt’s gotten lost somewhere, and the latest tattoo is still tender on his right arm. He’s beautiful.

 

“How was your day?” Sirius asks absently, and Remus shrugs, hanging up his coat, and barely hestitating before he crawls across the couch to straddle Sirius’s hips.

 

“Long.” He murmurs, and leans down, kissing the base of Sirius’s neck. Sirius tilts his head back, and lets the book drop to the floor. “Difficult.” He slides his fingers up Sirius’s bare sides. “Fraught with danger.”

 

Sirius tangles the fingers of his free hand in Remus’s hair, and tugs him up to kiss him. It’s been weeks of Remus having to go to werewolf meetings, werewolf summits, werewolf parties, trying to recruit for the Order, and since Sirius has been working, too, they haven’t seen much of each other.

 

Sirius tastes like cigarettes and coffee, and Remus refuses to admit that it’s slightly hot that he extinguishes his light between two fingers, not needing a wand to keep them from burning. He drops it on the floor, and slides his hand up under Remus’s shirt, splaying over his back.

 

Remus pulls back, and rests their foreheads together.

 

“How about you?” Sirius shrugs, and nudges Remus’s nose with his own.

 

“Peter came by.” He says passively, but Remus knows it means more than that. He himself hasn’t seen Peter since James and Lily’s wedding.

 

“How is he?” Sirius exhales, slowly, and shakes his head.

 

“Just--” He kisses Remus again, long, and slow, and Remus knows he doesn’t want to talk about it.

 

Later, he’ll weasel it out of him, but for now, he sinks into Sirius, reaches for his belt buckle and grins at the harsh gasp Sirius lets out when he does.

 

Some things never change.

 

\--

 

“You’re sure about this?” Remus asks, and James nods, face drawn. Lily’s holding Harry, just nine months old, standing next to him, and she does, too. Remus looks at Peter, and he dos the same.

 

“We trust you.” James says, without hesitation, and Peter pulls him into a tight hug. Sirius’s eyes are filled with something profound that Remus can’t quite place, but he knows he agrees. Frank and Alice hit them hard. Harder than they'd been hit before. 

 

Peter draws back, but he and James keep their holds on each others hands, a tight grip that looks about as unbreakable as the promise they’re about to make.

 

Remus takes out his wand, and begins to cast the spell.

 

Sirius stares.

  
  


When it’s over, Peter hugs them all, and leaves, and Sirius grabs James, and holds him, tighter than he did that day all those years ago in the Gryffindor common room.

 

“Stay safe, Jamie.” He mumbles, and James buries his face in the crook of Sirius’s neck.

 

“You too, Siri.”

 

Remus doesn’t know why, but it feels like this might be the last time he hears them call each other that.

 

\--

 

The night James and Lily Potter die, Sirius Black can be heard across Bristol, harsh, and rough, as he chokes on his own voice.

 

Remus finds him, in the front hall, at the foot of the stairs, cradling James’s lifeless body to his chest like a ragdoll, sobbing, uncontrollably, into James’s hair, stroking it like they’re children, again.

 

“Jamie. Jamie, wake up.” Remus pushes open the door, and Sirius doesn’t look up, doesn’t bring himself to care. “Jamie, please--Jamie _please_ \--”

 

Remus sinks to his knees on the floor, and doesn’t move. Can’t move.

 

Sirius ducks his head, and buries his face in the crook of James’s neck just like James did those months ago, as though the tighter he holds him, the more likely he is to come back.

 

“James.”

 

Silence, but for the sound of little Harry screaming in his crib, and Sirius screams James’s name, like a battle cry, like a plea, like it’s all he has left.

 

\--

 

The night James and Lily Potter die, Remus Lupin loses every friend he has. Sirius goes to jail for killing Peter, and James, and Lily. Peter dies without Remus ever being able to ask him why.

 

Sirius is carted away to Azkaban, laughing like a maniac, because now, he’s failed two brothers, and lost a third.  

 

And Remus is alone.

  
Really, truly alone.


End file.
